


chivalry and sentiments long past

by catefish



Category: Fire Emblem: Fuukasetsugetsu | Fire Emblem: Three Houses
Genre: Alternate Universe - Reincarnation, And I would like to thank Ferdinand von Aegir for helping me come up with this, Canon-Typical Violence, Felix's quarter life crisis, M/M, Mental Health Issues, Mutual Pining, Post-Canon, Reconciliation, Slow Burn, this was bound to happen
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-03-17
Updated: 2020-04-13
Packaged: 2021-02-22 10:29:16
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 14,889
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22314844
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/catefish/pseuds/catefish
Summary: At the mere age of four, Felix was made aware of the life he was supposed to lead. It was told by the legends inscribed in books old enough to be considered relics, by the whispers of his Father’s visitors whenever they chanced a glimpse of the little boy hiding behind his brother’s legs, and by the stories his Father recounted while he sat on his brother’s lap, listening to his elder’s voice as he asked questions with awe.And yet, here he was, battered by war, uncertain of what path to take, and haunted by memories not his.Or in which Felix must make a decision, both for his future, and for his relationship with his king.
Relationships: Dimitri Alexandre Blaiddyd/Felix Hugo Fraldarius
Comments: 14
Kudos: 52





	1. The Stubborn Royal

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> edited 03/17/2020, First chapter 60% rewritten
> 
> Felix finds himself filling in for Dedue.
> 
> He also finds himself dealing with issues he had elected to ignore throughout the years. 
> 
> Most of which involve his childhood friend turned king.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So as I was writing the next chapter, I had to reread the first chapter and reading it made me really dissatisfied with what I had put out. So I decided that it was better to rework it. I wasn't in the best headspace when I first wrote the start of this fic and I think that really affected how I wrote it. Knowing that, I wanted to make it better and flow better so there were scenes added and dialogue rewritten. So I hope you guys enjoy this reworked first chap~

_30 th day of the Great Tree Moon 1186, Gronder Field_

The scent of burnt wood and flesh continued to invade Felix’s senses as he swiped his sword at enemy after enemy. The hill upon which the ballista was built was just ignited by Imperial troops, sparing no one atop the hill from the flames which licked at every inch of their bodies. The loud clashing of metal of against metal in its periphery only drowned out the screams of its victims. Soldiers everywhere were covered in dirt, blood and sweat.

All of them _literally_ barely keeping themselves together as the fight continued to escalate.

It had already been hours since the clash started, and yet they already lost a sizeable number of their troops. It was no secret that Felix was of the opinion that this advance to Gronder was a foolish decision, considering that they hardly had enough troops to engage the empire to begin with, and now coupled with the Alliance as an added foe. Needless to say, they were not at all up to match with the battle today. Hopelessness was already nagging at the back of his mind. And yet, Felix knew there would be no other way than to slash his way forward, and whittle the enemies’ numbers as much as he could.

There was no way he was allowing himself to die in such a pathetic battle.

The adrenaline that coursed through his veins served to dull the fatigue weighing down his body, allowing him to easily parry blows meant to end him at every opportunity. The scent of smoke and burnt flesh grew stronger as he advanced to the Empire’s side of the field. From afar, he could see the red of the Emperor’s cloak as she batted away arrows using her axe. Several armored knights surrounded her, all shielding her from the soldiers who were attempting to break through the barrier.

The professor had instructed them to focus on the empire. They explained that it would be a better way to avoid needlessly engaging with the Alliance, and that hopefully it would stand as message to the Alliance, Claude in particular, to work together. It was the better option in order to protect what little numbers of soldiers they had.

As the professor charged with their battalion toward the demonic beast guarding the helm of one of Edelgard’s forces, Felix followed and provided them with cover as they tried to down the monster as soon as they can.

Suddenly, a blood-curdling wail sounded from afar, somewhere past the wooden barrier protecting Edelgard. Felix shifted his gaze at the source, and was shocked to see their prince, their _beast_ , aggressively removing his lance from a monster’s head, haunted eyes trained on his target—no, _prey_.

Before the professor could react, the beast charged towards Edelgard’s direction, lance relic in hand, blood splattered all over its armor and a manic look plastered upon its face.

 _‘That idiot.’_ Felix immediately felt anger well up inside him. Felix grit his teeth in disdain. Of course, Felix was not foolish enough to not see this coming but he had at least hoped that the beast would at least be slowed down by the Imperial battalions hell bent on killing him. They were already on the losing side of this war, and the boar just had to make it his business to actively make things worse.

“Felix!” The professor called out to him. “Follow Dimitri!”

The professor did not even need to tell him.

Quick on his feet, Felix created an opening with one swipe of his sword, effectively cutting a deep gash across his foe’s chest. The soldier did not even have the chance to react before he went limp on his knees and bled. As soon as that was done, Felix followed Dimitri, mindful of the soldiers throwing themselves in front of him in a futile attempt to stop him. But the boar, with all that wrath teeming inside him, was a force to be reckoned with. Each nonchalant swipe of his lance was an effective deterrent to any who would stand on his way as he went on his merry way for revenge.

It was clear that the beast cared not for survival but only for the death of his prey.

Felix was annoyed at how easy things were going for the boar considering that the Imperial soldiers just didn’t know when to stop throwing themselves in his path. His blade may hunger for combat but war is war, and the beast was doing nothing but making it worse. The more this went on, the more frustrated Felix became. It took some time for Felix to break through the line of soldiers. By the time he was finished, Felix was too far away now to keep an eye on Dimitri.

Felix could only grip his sword tightly in agitation.

Suddenly, a wave of dizziness washed over him as he tried to stand firm. His vision blurred at the edges, as he tried to regain focus. Heavy footsteps sounded near him. Felix regained his composure just in time to dodge what would have been a fatal blow to his head. With a slice of his sword, he downed the armored soldier before they could get a hit on him. However, an even harsher wave of lightheadedness washed over him, prompting Felix to clutch his head to recover.

Everything seemed to blend together in his vision. The greens of the field muddled itself with the browns of the dirt. The sky seemed to be a dark shade of grey. Felix watched as heavy rain began to fall, oddly he does not feel any of it. He could still smell the strong smell of smoke, yet not the scent of rainfall. In fact, as he turned around he saw no fire. He only saw red and blue squaring off each other in squabbles. The bodies littering the ground only seemed to be wearing red. Felix could have sworn that the soldier he last struck was from the Alliance. And yet, everywhere he looked it seemed that red and blue were the only colors he could see, dampened by rainfall. Felix took a few steps forward, looking around, as he made sure that he was at a safe distance and alert enough to strike back at anyone who would take advantage of him in this state.

“Your Highness!” His father’s panicked voice raised the hairs at the back of his neck, breaking him out of his reverie.

Just as a soldier aimed his lance right at his chest, Felix deflected it right back before stabbing the man right through his chest.

Without thought, Felix ran swiftly towards his father’s voice. As soon as he was near enough, he caught sight of the boar kneeling on the ground, clutching at his side. But suddenly, a headache split right through Felix’s head, almost knocking him off his feet as he willed his feet to move.

“Hey!” A strong hand steadied him. “You must get ahold of yourself.”

As Felix’s gaze refocused, he was greeted by the sight of familiar auburn hair framing an unfamiliar scarred face.

“Our friend needs you. You must push on.” The man’s voice was familiar, and yet Felix struggled to remember as the ache in his temples worsened.

Something felt _off_.

Felix’s body moved on it own, pushing off the hand that rested upon his shoulder. It was as if Felix had unwillingly surrendered all control of his body to some unknown force. He felt like he was trapped in his own mind, becoming a mere bystander to his own person.

“You don’t need to tell me that.” His mouth moved on its own, his voice sounding more raspy than usual. “Stop talking and keep moving.”

Before Felix could press on, a pegasus knight blocked his way. The knight disembarked from her steed, and walked over to offer the reins to Felix.

“Take my horse. It will be faster. We will take care of the rest from here.” The knight spoke, her green eyes filled with determination.

With a nod, Felix placed himself on the steed and flew quickly to Dimitri, charging towards the striking blue of his cloak.

However, right as he arrived on the scene, he saw someone else kneeling on the ground, the very same person he’s seen so many times in his dreams, just as the maiden’s blade was about to hit its mark.

_5 th day of the Red Wolf Moon, 1186, Fhirdiad_

Felix’s eyes snapped open, startled by the image that seemed to burn itself into the back of his mind. His back ached, having been hunched over his study desk the whole night, papers in disarray as he woke. This was not the first time Felix awoke from what was a confusing mishmash of his memories of the war, and memories that were not his own.

Or it could just simply some imagery he must have gotten from that book Ashe recently urged him to read.

As if Felix hadn’t read it before.

Children of Faerghus were very well aware of the numerous tales of Loog, the King of Lions. Loog was what young children dreamed of becoming: a knight, a king, and a hero. He was what children often pretended to be as they swiped wooden sticks at each other, attempting to recreate Loog’s famous battle against the Emperor. Children would babble on and on about his exploits to one another, cooing over every little _chivalric_ action. However, it was different for Felix and Dimitri. To Dimitri, Loog was the type of king Dimitri aspired to be. And to Felix, as the late king once said, Loog was the very thing Dimitri will become in the future.

As a child, since he was absolutely taken at the time, Felix also wanted to experience the adventures Loog had. He wanted to feel the rush that came with being someone like him, someone who won no matter the odds, and someone revered by many for his skill. However, at the mere age of four, Felix was already made aware of the life he was supposed to lead. It was told by the legends inscribed in books old enough to be considered relics, by the whispers of his Father’s visitors whenever they chanced a glimpse of the little boy hiding behind his brother’s legs, and by the stories his Father recounted while he sat on his brother’s lap, listening to his elder’s voice as he asked questions with awe.

Even though Felix was taken by Loog, Felix knew he was meant to be like Kyphon.

To his own surprise, it was only for 10 minutes that he had any qualms about it.

As soon as his father mentioned that he was meant to always be by Dimitri’s side as his sworn friend, Felix calmed down and hugged Dimitri as soon as he arrived on his next visit. Because in Felix’s young mind, if anyone deserved to be Loog; it was Dimitri.

Felix remembered the last few lines he read before he fell asleep as he blinked the last remains of sleep in his eyes. Of course, he just had to be reading about the Battle of the Eagle and Lion before bed. And of course, he ended up revisiting the event itself in his feeble mind. But Felix already knew that as much as he would want to believe that the dream was just a result of the book Ashe had lent, the dreams were memories of the past around 700 years ago.

They were memories of his past life as the legendary King’s right hand.

The weird dreams were a normal occurrence for Felix. He has had them since he was a child. As he grew into his adolescence, the dreams only intensified and became more detailed as time went by. Thankfully, he didn’t have those dreams every time he slept. However, bouts of them still came and went whenever it pleased.

It was five years ago since he had last dreamt.

Now, it annoyed him to no end.

He always felt as if he had resigned all control of his body whenever it happened. An old mage once explained to him that it was because he possessed an old soul that allowed him to relive memorable events in his dreams. The very same thing was said to the Crown Prince. Felix remembered telling Dimitri with a puff of his chest that it was a sign they were best friends. Dimitri told him that they didn’t really need a sign like that since they were already best friends. Felix only shrugged saying that it made them cooler.

Felix shook his head. There was no use reminiscing about the past. Everything was vastly different now. And so Felix buried that old dull ache in his chest.

And with a groan, Felix stood from his desk and went off to prepare for the day.

* * *

“Hey Felix!” Sylvain’s chipper voice greeted him as he entered the castle’s dining hall, an arm immediately throwing itself over his shoulders.

Felix grumbled a reply as he took out his seat and sat down, waiting for his breakfast to be served. Ever since the war ended, every month Felix, Sylvain, and Ingrid and anyone else available from the Blue Lions came to the monthly reparations council at Dimitri’s behest. It took some effort but everyone was able to convince Dimitri to allow them to help in rebuilding Fódlan after the war, ultimately allowing Dimitri to share the burden with everyone.

“Had a bad night last night?” Sylvain took his usual place right beside Felix, gently prodding Felix out of his early morning sour mood.

Felix wouldn’t be in a sour mood if he hadn’t woken up with a stiff neck. Felix wouldn’t be in a sour mood if he dreamed like a normal person. Felix was not in the mood for any sort of mundane interaction whilst sporting an aching neck and an annoying headache. For the time being at least, Felix found it better to ignore Sylvain.

“Come on, Felix. I didn’t even see you all day yesterday.” Sylvain continued. “You and His Majesty were cooped up in his study for hours. Can’t I spend some quality time with you too?”

“Tch, _quality time_? It was work, you idiot.” Felix bit back. ‘ _Goddess, this headache is annoying.’_

“Still, you guys were in there from dawn to dusk. Not even a break. Makes me think you guys got a bit carried away.” There it is, that sly tone Sylvain always used to work him up. “If you know what I mean.”

“Don’t you dare start.” Felix gritted his teeth, hoping Sylvain drops the subject. Felix did not want to deal with whatever Sylvain thought he and Dimitri were up to.

“Alright, alright. Just know that I’m always open for some conversation.” Sylvain held his hands up in mock defeat.

Sylvain always made it a point to check up on him these days while they were in Fhirdiad. Felix always thought it was because of Sylvain’s weird fascination of his and Dimitri’s relationship. As the days go by, Felix is reminded that it was more than that. Everyone was battered by the war and everything that came right after it. Felix included. Felix was kind of thankful but he wished that Sylvain would at least approach him differently on the matter (or anything really) lest he wanted Felix to brandish his sword against somewhere painful.

Out of all them, Sylvain seemed to be the one who has adjusted masterfully since the end of the war. Sure, he changed. He was a lot more subdued in his advances as of late but at the core Sylvain was still Sylvain and prone to repeat his skirt chasing antics.

From the corner of his eye, he watched as Sylvain winked at one of the castle’s maids just as she was about to serve them breakfast. The maid gawked and almost threw the plates she balanced on her hand. Sylvain immediately stood up and helped her regain her balance, settling his hand over hers as he lifted the plates up.

“We can’t have you falling so soon for me, can’t we?” Sylvain smiled as he looked down at the maid’s blushing face.

“I- I apologize, my lord.” The maid spoke meekly as she tried to fight down her embarrassment.

Felix crossed his arms and rolled his eyes.

It was way too early for Felix to deal with Sylvain’s antics.

“Just eat your damn breakfast, Sylvain.” Felix immediately dug into his meal, pointedly ignoring Sylvain’s flirty gratitude towards the maid.

“Yeah, yeah. We can’t rebuild Fódlan on an empty stomach after all.” Sylvain said as he returned to his seat. “Anyway, how was working with His Majesty? I imagine he’s determined to finish it all by himself.”

“As if I’d let him lest I allow Fódlan to crumble.” Felix answered. Frankly, that was what exactly transpired yesterday: Dimitri insisting that he was more than capable as king to handle all the affairs regarding tax, war relief and repairs, and Felix bringing him back to the reality that he was only one man governing a whole continent not just a kingdom.

“Not surprised. But still, you guys make a great team you know?” Felix shrugged. “Well, I guess you have always been prepared for this job anyway. But still His Majesty is lucky to have you as his advisor.”

“I’m not his advisor.” Felix almost murmured to himself.

“Yeah, I get you. You mean you’re more like a babysitter than an advisor at this point, pretty much taking over for Dedue.” Sylvain’s words made something inside Felix, unearthing unwanted feelings swirling inside Felix’s chest.

“I said I’m not his advisor.” Felix spat without thinking, immediately regretting his words as soon as they came out of his mouth.

Feeling vulnerable, Felix immediately shifted his gaze somewhere else. Suddenly, the atmosphere was tense.

“Felix…” Felix knew that Sylvain was onto him from the moment Sylvain saw him enter the dining hall. Sylvain was observant. It was not possible that he didn’t notice anything at all in the past week. It wasn’t like Felix could hide anything from him anyway. After all, he was one of the few people who understood Felix even without Felix having to speak.

“I already said it. Don’t make me repeat myself.” Felix crossed his arms as if trying to shield himself from what was to come.

“You haven’t accepted it?” Sylvain went straight to the point, his brows raised in surprise. “I’m pretty sure Dimitri was just waiting for the right moment to ask you.”

However, Felix doesn’t know the answer to that question as well.

Dimitri had raised the matter to him yesterday while they were in the midst of an argument regarding whom to assign to monitor former Imperial territory progress. It was out of the blue and in the heat of debate that Dimitri unwittingly commented on how much he appreciated Felix’s perspective of things and how he was lucky to have his help in sorting out the politics of rebuilding a unified nation.

It was then, with a soft grasp of his shoulder, that Dimitri sincerely expressed his desire for Felix to officially become his advisor.

And all Felix could say was _“I’ll think about it.”_

As simple as it was, Felix was not proud of it. Not only did he probably give Dimitri some form of hope that he would accept the position but he was also setting him up for disappointment, regardless whether he accept the position or not.

Felix did not enjoy having vague answers to simple questions. During the war, while Felix had moments where he would think about his future, discussing such things with the professor or even Flayn of all people, Felix was more focused on how to end the war and getting Dimitri on the throne to uphold his late father’s wishes. He told himself that he’d think about what to do with his life after actually defeating the empire.

However, Felix could not fathom what was holding him back from deciding _now_. Felix always knew that the time would come where he would need to choose a path and stick to it. Now, he could only ponder on what life would be like if he no longer had a reason to raise his sword. And yet, he had no clue on which path would erase the void swirling in his chest.

He only had himself to blame for this.

“…” Felix couldn’t explain himself. Not now at least, considering the headache he’s been nursing ever since he woke up.

Sylvain waited for him to speak but all Felix could give him was silence.

“Next time, Felix. Whenever you want to talk about it.” Sylvain somehow always knew when it wasn’t time to pry. “Anyway, care to tell me what is up with your mood this lovely morning? You’re grouchier than usual.”

“It’s just some stupid headache.” Felix said as he finished his meal. At least, it was starting to fade away now.

“Those dreams again, huh?” Sylvain read between the lines.

“It’s annoying.”

“Yeah, I can see that. Still weird though. The war is over already. There’s no reason for your ancestor to haunt you now, right?”

“As if the dead needed a reason anyway.” Felix spoke bitterly. Kyphon’s memories just had _incredible_ timing, perfect in the sense that they were guaranteed to bother Felix almost every night nowadays when he was busy rebuilding a continent.

“Come on, brighten up a bit Felix. I think it’s just because your mind just wants something else to tire itself with. It’ll pass soon enough once we’re done with the heavy lifting.”

“Tch, it better.”

And the dreams only went worse.

_Imperial Year 751, 11 th day of Ethereal Moon, days after the formal ascension of Loog von Blaiddyd_ _to the throne_

It was not easy to find him amidst the hustle and bustle of things.

After gaining their independence, it felt like Faerghus was brimming with renewed energy. The staff were busy moving back and forth every inch of the castle, helping in whatever way they can in the expansion of the capital’s castle. Architects were steadily explaining to the workers on the construction of the new wing as well as the construction of additional rooms, kitchens and even a new courtyard.

To his mind, such things could only be considered luxuries or even unnecessary expenses considering that they had only become a kingdom one moon ago.

He was sure that his friend thought the same.

But his friend had lords to please and regions to negotiate with so there was not much they could do against the lords’ insistence.

Still, his friend was ever the rebellious one. Of course, that is to be expected of someone who had managed to rally several lords under one banner and emerge victorious from a battle deciding their independence. One would look at him and think he was a brute, taking note of the scars that littered his arms as well as the way the sturdiest of things seemed to break beneath his light grip.

He didn’t look like a king but there was no denying that he was one now.

Eventually, he found him on the balcony, his blue cape dancing in the winter breeze as he gazed softly at the town, reveling at the image of the town bathed in white snow with a small smile on his face.

“I’ve been waiting for you, my friend.” His voice was husky, tired from all the meetings he has had throughout the day. It was rare for him to find his friend withdrawing from his newly found duties. His friend was the type to be enthusiastic about creating change as if he had limitless energy pouring out of him. There were only a handful of times where he would find him exhausted.

“Next time, be more specific. You do realize there is more than one balcony here.”

His words earned a hearty laugh from his friend.

“My apologies. But I must admit that I had faith that you would find me no matter how I phrased my request.”

He sighed at his friend’s words. At least, he was right about one thing. He knew him too well.

“Well, what is it that you wanted to discuss that you couldn’t wait until tomorrow’s council?” He crossed his arms as he leaned on the balcony. “It better be worth walking through the entire castle.”

His friend turned to face him, happiness gleaming from his tired face.

“What do you think of having a celebration for the whole kingdom?”

“A celebration? Now?”

“Lord Kleiman suggested it, and some other lords agreed with him. Though, I do think it would be a good idea to lighten up the people’s spirits.”

“They’re being fools. We’ve only started pooling our funds once again. It is too soon for merriment.” At this moment, he thought that reason should be a more _common_ commodity. But it was to be expected after the high of winning a war. “We have to know where to spend our resources during this time. It’s crucial we do.”

“Agreed. But still, the kingdom has suffered a lot during the war. We’ve won our independence at such a high cost.” He looked at the way his friend’s eyes seemed to sadden at the thought of the war. While they may now have their freedom, the lives of those whom everyone would want to share it with were lost, along with sentimental belongings, and homes. The state of the kingdom was far from prosperous. It could be felt by the way people’s gaze glaze over as they returned to their homes and embraced their loved ones. It was disheartening. “I don’t think that giving the people some joy would do much harm.”

“Like I’ve said. It’s still too soon.” Even he had to agree that the pains of war still continued to linger strongly but there was no mistaking that there was not a lot they could do about it. “We have spent a lot on the war. I doubt we would have enough to give as of now.”

“Well, what would you suggest?”

“W-what?” Frankly, he hadn’t thought much about it beyond dissuading his friend from spending too much. He only thought he just needed to remind him to focus on repair efforts. But his dear friend, asking him for an idea _to lift up the people’s spirits_?

He was the most withdrawn man in the entire kingdom.

He was an expert in swordsmanship and military tactics. Leadership was not his forte. How could he even know how to cheer up people? Or even _lift up a whole kingdom’s spirits_?

“I’m a soldier, not a clown. I am not the right person to be asked such things. Why not ask Rorik? Or even Cuinn?”

“Well, why can’t I ask you?” His friend raised his brow at him, mirth painted over his face.

“Isn’t it obvious? I don’t _know_ how to lift people’s spirits. I don’t even know how to make people happy.” He gesticulated as he tried to get his point across to his stubborn friend.

“Well, for what it’s worth, you make me happy.” A soft smiled graced his friend’s lips as he spoke.

He felt the telltale way his heart beat in his chest as he felt color rush to his cheeks. He quickly turned his face away from his friend’s gaze, trying to hide away the scarlet color gracing his face.

His friend always knew how to push his buttons.

“That’s irrelevant. We’ve known each other decades. It doesn’t matter.” He sputtered, avoiding looking at his friend as he did.

“Well, I would still want to know what is it you think we can do.” His friend was patient enough to wait for an answer from him. No matter how long it would take.

He rummaged through his mind for some ideas. As he went over the question in his mind, he watched over the townspeople as they went about their day. As he skimmed over the crowd, his eyes found a trio of children looking up at them in awe. He watched them talking to each other as they played swords, mimicking what could only be the king and the emperor’s final battle. Before they could play any further, an old woman called them over, gesturing to them to come back home. He studied the dingy old house they lived, battered from the war and the single loaf of bread they shared with one another. He could read the sadness in their faces as they watched soldiers pass by without so much a glance. He could read the old woman’s thoughts from her face. It read that no one really cared.

And that’s when it came to him.

“Why don’t we join in the repair efforts? It would boost morale and it would make the efforts go faster. It would be a good place to start to see what we could do to lift the people’s mood.”

He turned back his gaze to his friend who was grinning at him from ear to ear, blue eyes sparkling in delight. He could feel his heart stutter from the sight.

“It seems we had the same thing in mind.”

_6 th day of the Red Wolf Moon, 1186, Fhirdiad_

People must be wondering why Felix has been helping out Dimitri the past week. It can all be traced back to Dedue. Dedue had _discussed_ it _with_ him, if telling Felix that Dimitri had appointed him as head of one of the relief committees managing Duscur territory and leaving Felix without even getting an answer was to be considered a _discussion._ ~~~~

Yet Dedue knew he would comply anyway.

Why did Felix comply? Felix didn’t know either.

His body moved on instinct, and because of it he has managed to establish some sort of routine between him and Dimitri the past week. While Dedue only explained the situation to him in one sentence, Felix could read between the lines. They were both very aware that Dimitri was horrible at looking after himself, adamantly preferring to place others’ needs and wants before his own every single time without fail.

He had heard from Mercedes from one of her visits that Dimitri had told Dedue to live his life the way he wanted to, that he didn’t need to continue shadowing Dimitri. While Dedue and Dimitri had a lengthy discussion about it specifically concerning Dimitri’s awful habit of overworking himself, Dimitri agreed to let Dedue head the relief operations in Duscur on the condition that he look after himself more.

Which, expectedly, he was doing a horrible job of.

As Felix entered Dimitri’s study, he was not surprised to see dark circles gathering underneath Dimitri’s eyes. If Felix looked horrible this morning, Dimitri was worse. He was hunched over his desk, broad shoulders stiff and brows knotted in concentration. His hair was in disarray, probably because DImitri had opted not to fix it at all as it was a waste of time. He could see the way he tightly gripped his pen, and the way his free hand tapped the surface of the desk in staccato, his fingers restless over the hard wood. Dimitri looked as if he had rushed out from bed, determined to get back to work.

Felix had an inkling that he shouldn’t have left him early last night. But then again Felix wasn’t sure how long he could endure the awkward silence between them after Dimitri asked him to be his advisor.

“You look fucking terrible.” Despite his words, no spite was laced in Felix’s tone. He entered Dimitri’s study, and immediately took his usual place in the chair in front of Dimitri’s desk. Felix tried not to take notice of how in the past week he didn’t even need to drag it out of the corner anymore. “Don’t even try to make excuses with me when I already told you last night to allow the reparations committee to actually do _work_.”

_‘Work that shouldn’t be passing through Dimitri’s hands in the first place.’_

“There’s nothing to worry about, Felix. These are just projects whose completion I wish to oversee personally. It’s not too much trouble for me, really. It has only been two moons, and there is still much to be done. The people have gone through so much. As king I must—“

Felix knew where this was going, and he wasn’t going to put up with Dimitri’s manic intent to work himself into exhaustion.

“ _As king_ , you must be aware of your own limits, and work _with_ them, _not_ against them.” Felix placed one stern hand over the paperwork Dimitri was currently reading. He watched as Dimitri’s sole blue eye firmly held his gaze, almost challenging him.

Just as Dimitri was about to speak, a few knocks at the door prompted the two to break eye contact.

“Your Majesty.”

_‘Great, just great.’_

“Gilbert, what brings you here today?” Dimitri stood from his chair, making his way to the man. Gilbert was a lot like Felix’s father in the sense that both were very much stuck in their knightly ways. The way Gilbert served Dimitri from the war and up until now still made his stomach twist in some mix of disgust and agitation. Felix didn’t hate him, and his disdain for him slightly wavered the past few months. But with Dimitri, he was somewhat an _enabler_ , and Felix knew that no amount reasoning could get the man to relax his strong hold on his ideals.

Felix could at least try.

“Your Majesty, Lord Astley of the Western Alliance requests an immediate audience with you. Apparently, he has concerns with House Goneril’s management of Fódlan’s Locket.” Gilbert said, relaying the lord’s words to their king.

Felix watched as Dimitri held onto every information Gilbert relayed to him. Concern swirled within Felix’s gut. He studied the way Dimitri’s shoulders slightly drooped as if pulled down by the weight of responsibility, Dimitri stubborn enough to tell everyone he was doing fine. Dimitri’s eyes gleamed tiredly as he spoke, the dark rings under his eyes evidencing sleepless nights and restless thoughts. And yet, Dimitri trudged on every single day with hardly enough rest. Enough rest to function, yes, but not enough to aid him on his road to recovering from the toll the last five years had on him.

Deciding it was time to intervene, Felix spoke up.

“It’s better to discuss his concerns along with the other former Alliance lords later. Only listening to his side of the story won’t do any of us good.”

Dimitri turned over to him in surprise as if he had forgotten Felix’s presence. A small smile graced his features as he nodded at Felix’s words.

“Very well. Gilbert, please tell Lord Astley to reserve his concerns for later. We’ll mediate with the lords in the appropriate setting.”

“Very well, your Majesty.” And with that, Gilbert left with a bow.

Silence permeated the room as Dimitri and Felix stared at each other in silence, waiting for the other to speak.

“Felix.”

“Dimitri.”

It was a stalemate. But Felix knew that Dimitri would break it first.

“You…you don’t have to do this, Felix. I can manage on my own.” Dimitri spoke softly. “You are not under any obligation to aid me in my work. You have done more than enough, and I thank you for that. But from here on, I can handle things.”

There was a lot Dimitri left unsaid but Felix knew better. ~~~~

“I’m not here on my father’s behalf if that’s what you’re thinking.” Felix spoke firmly. “I’m not here because I need to, I’m here because I _want_ to. My wishes are my own.”

“My apologies. I didn’t mean to imply that…that Rodrigue had put you up to this. But I just wanted to say that you—” Dimitri struggled to find words to say or rather he struggled to find the courage to say what he truly thought.

It had been like this ever since the war ended. They interacted with each other as if they were walking on eggshells, uncertain to breach certain topics as they tried to relearn to work with each other off the battlefield.

Felix couldn’t help but think it was easier when all they had to do was focus on defeating the enemy, and training to defeat that enemy. It was evident that taking war out of the equation proved to only make their interactions even more awkward. Admittedly, there really shouldn’t be any difference. It was not like they had nothing to focus on and work towards after the war. They still had a kingdom to govern and a people to help heal.

But now, without the notion of death and defeat hanging above their heads, they ironically now have a lot of time to think about other _things_.

Things that were merely glossed over during a time where they did not even have the luxury to think of the far future.

Felix had an idea why Dimitri was holding himself back. After all, Felix hadn’t made himself clear on what he would do with his own life and whether he still wants to repair whatever remains of their relationship.

Unfortunately, even months after the war, Felix was still dumbfounded.

Felix can’t deny that he missed the rush of maneuvering his sword, the thrill of victory in battle. But there was hardly any need for him to swing his sword now other than training. And yet, he still can’t imagine a life without it. Maybe it was foolish for Felix to pour his whole being into swordplay and battle because now he could not help but feel emptiness whenever his hands were empty of weapons.

Like swordplay, governance was also something he trained for, albeit only after Glenn’s death. He knew his way around petty squabbles and the economics of running his territory. But he couldn’t help but feel a mismatch between himself and being a dutiful Duke Fraldarius. He was sharp tongued and made out of steel. He could not imagine himself becoming the compassionate, man of the people Duke Fraldarius his father was. Even he can admit that his uncle was doing better than Felix even with his and his father’s absence.

He was at an impasse.

On the other hand, Felix knew that Dimitri would have no qualms about him leaving their fragile friendship as is, and abandoning his duties as duke. In fact, Dimitri would say that he expected it and would not blame Felix if he did leave him.

The very thought twisted Felix’s insides into knots.

He can’t deny that there was hope yet for his friendship with Dimitri. And yet, the fear still lingers. The thought of reopening old wounds was disconcerting for Felix. He was used to moving forward instead of dwelling on such things. But if they truly wanted to become as they were before, this grueling process was something they had to face.

Dimitri heaved a heavy sigh before continuing.

“I don’t want you to feel as if this is where you’re _supposed_ to be.”

“You’re not. If anything, you seem hell bent on reminding me that it isn’t.” The words left Felix’s mouth before he could even think. Felix watched as his words struck Dimitri, the sting evident on his face.

“I’m sorry. That was not my intention. I just...I just wanted to let you know you have every right to return back to Fraldarius or travel as much as you want.” Dimitri spoke carefully, his expression betraying his emotions. “That we are not bound to be like our predecessors. Our destiny is for ours to make.”

“You don’t think I know that?” Felix snapped, Dimitri’s words unearthing Felix’s frustrations.

Dimitri looked distraught, confused on how to proceed without escalating things.

The guilt quickly set in Felix’s bones as he saw his friend’s distress.

With a deep breath, Felix composed himself, wary of lashing out any further.

“I know that. I just—I just need time.”

“I see.”

Silence fell between them once again. To an outsider, they would probably look like a bunch of fools standing quiet in the middle of the room as they avoided each other’s gaze.

Clearing his throat, Dimitri was once again the first to break the silence.

“For what it’s worth…” Felix’s eyes widened, remembering the very same words being uttered in his dreams. The voices echoed each other as Dimitri spoke.

“What?”

“I believe you’ll do great in anything you choose to do, Felix.” Sincerity overflowed from Dimitri’s words. An awkward smile tugged the corners of his lips.

Felix felt his heart stop. Warmth spread through his chest, the very same feeling he had when Dimitri complimented him when they were children. To think Dimitri still had it in him to make him feel such things.

“Hmph.” Felix avoided his gaze, choosing to keep silent lest he accidentally lash out again.

“Felix?”

“What? Have anything else to say?”

“I— Well, it’s nothing important.” Felix could see hesitation etched on Dimitri’s face. He decided not to ask any further. “Let’s get back to work, shall we?”

_Imperial Year 747, 15 th day of the Garland Moon, Arianrhod_

Shouts and cries of soldiers resounded on the battlefield.

The rain fell down in heavy droplets, washing out the blood spilt on the granite, and bathing the area in a silver sheen. They were all moments away from regaining control over the fortress, moments away from finally showing the empire that they were a threat to be reckoned with.

Amidst the tempest brewing in the sky, their troops were wet to their bones beneath their armor as they attempted to push out the Empire out of the fortress, doing all they can not to slip lest their lives be taken.

His friend had gone on ahead in pursuit of the commander, determined to end this battle as soon as he can. With a swipe of his lance, he opened his path, persevering despite the suboptimal condition of the battlefield.

Attempting to cover for his friend, he followed his trail, slashing his sword enemy after enemy.

Suddenly, an armored knight blocked his path with a heavy swing of his axe.

“Your life ends here!” The Imperial Soldier cried, raising the axe for another heavy swing.

He quickly maneuvered himself out the axe’s trajectory, sidestepping before stabbing the knight through his armor. The soldier choked on his own blood as he fell limp on the ground. Brandishing his sword, he slashed back at another soldier aiming for his chest with his lance. The soldier dodged back, before trying to knock off his sword. He blocked the blow with his shield, parrying the lance back and almost making the soldier trip on his feet.

The Imperial Soldier served to be a fast opponent, as if never tiring after making attempt after attempt at his life.

Distracted by his current opponent, he was slow to notice an assassin sneaking up from behind, raising her sword to end him.

_“Felix!”_

Felix’s eyes snapped open.

He was in his quarters in the castle in the middle of the night, and yet he continued to hear shouts and groans echoing in the castle walls along with a loud crash.

The sounds themselves were enough to have Felix jolt out of his bed, and make haste towards the King’s Royal quarters barefoot, adrenaline pumping in his veins.

He slammed the doors open, finding Dimitri thrashing about in his bed, as if brawling with an unseen enemy. His tea set laid broken on his bedside floor.

Felix quickly made his way over to his Dimitri’s side, mindful of the broken glass as he tried to shake his childhood friend awake to no avail.

Dimitri continued to groan in pain, his eye unseeing as Felix placed his hands over his shoulders to hold him down.

“Dimitri!” Felix called out, his heart beating in his chest sporadically. His hands shook as he tried to placate his friend as he continued to thrash about.

Felix was not built for this.

He was not at all prepared to help Dimitri in his darkest nights.

“Come on, Dimitri! Wake up!” Felix shouted helplessly.

Dimitri uttered nonsense as he tried to push away Felix. Still, Felix soldiered on and steadied his hold over Dimitri. Suddenly, with his brute strength, Dimitri smacked Felix back, causing him to fall onto the floor, his right hand landing on sharp edges of broken glass, blood spilling from Felix’s skin.

With a hiss, Felix lifted himself from the floor as Dimitri continued to wail apologies and pleas. Felix watched as tears started to pour from Dimitri’s unseeing eye.

Without thought, Felix’s hands moved on their own, placing themselves over Dimitri’s cheeks as he tried to help Dimitri regain focus, blood messily smearing over Dimitri’s cheek. Their faces were now only a few centimeters away. From this close, he could at least tell that his childhood friend was steadily starting to lose steam, and was on the verge of tiring himself out.

“Snap out of it and listen to _me_ , Dimitri.” Felix tried to speak as softly and loudly as he can, hoping that his voice would be enough to at least lower the volume of the voices that haunted Dimitri’s mind. His mind thrummed with numerous thoughts as he tried to figure out a way to help his friend.

Felix watched Dimitri as his eye tried to focus on him, haziness still clouding Dimitri’s brilliant blue eye. He waited for Dimitri to come back to him with patience. He watched him fight against the voices in his mind as he struggled to ground himself in reality.

The ache inside Felix’s chest worsened as Dimitri lost himself and started to look right past him.

Felix was at a complete loss. But then he had already expected that he would be powerless to do anything to placate Dimitri’s ghosts.

With a steadying breath, Felix continued to call him out as Dimitri’s tears mixed with the blood smeared against his skin.

Dimitri continued to babble on, calling out names Felix was uncomfortable to hear.

With as much patience as he could muster, Felix waited, toughening himself from the blows Dimitri’s words would inflict on him.

He was not ready for this.

He was not ready to experience Dimitri’s pain at its rawest.

Still, Felix continued to call out his name in a futile attempt to ease his terrors, hoping that his voice would guide him out of the darkness he found himself in.

After a while, Dimitri went silent, face still scrunching up in sorrow and regret.

‘Is the worst over…?’ Felix tiredly thought, hands still resting against Dimitri’s cheeks.

To his surprise, Dimitri slowly sat up.

Eyes widening, Felix didn’t move, wary of what Dimitri may do.

Before Felix could even move an inch, arms suddenly wrapped around him, caging him within Dimitri’s embrace. Dimitri’s hands clutched the back of his shirt tightly as his chest heaved desperately. Dimitri tiredly leant his forehead against Felix’s, huffing as his breathing started to steady itself. Felix trained his gaze on Dimitri’s expression, eyes looking grim and lost.

Felix could only wait for him to come back to reality.

Dimitri continued to move closer, just a breath away from Felix’s face, warm puffs of air ghosting over Felix’s skin.

Felix sat frozen as chapped lips met his.

“Kyphon…”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> kudos and comments are very much appreciated!


	2. Non-confrontations

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dimitri does not know what he did to anger Felix nor does he know why Felix seemed to glower heatedly at several commissioned portraits of his ancestors.
> 
> Note: So, if you haven't reread the previous chapter, I just wanted to tell you that I've reworked it and 60% of the chapter has changed. Please, read it if you haven't:)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Writing this was really hard given how things are at the moment. I was actually supposed to update this two weeks ago but it has been tough. Stay safe everyone and be sure to wash your hands always. 
> 
> Anyways, I hope you guys enjoy this chapter!
> 
> chapter warnings: this chapter includes dimitri's voices and his struggles with them

_Imperial Year 747, 15 th day of the Garland Moon, Arianrhod_

Heavy downpour amidst a raging battle was not the best of circumstances to be in.

Not only was the battlefield a blur under this weather but it also only served to hinder himself and his men from maneuvering themselves swiftly enough to dodge enemy strikes. His men were starting to feel the fatigue as the rain poured down with all its might in almost painful bursts, a tempest threatening to brew in both the heavens and the fortress.

The weight of his own armor doubled under the downpour, slowing him down as he made his way across the battlefield. He can’t afford to dawdle. Not when he knew they were nearing the tail end of this fight. As long as they stand their ground, it will only be a matter of time until they can fully reclaim what is rightfully theirs.

With a thrust of his lance, he cut a path towards the enemy commander, pushing back all those who dared to stand in his way.

He was close.

_So close._

And yet, the enemy onslaught never seemed to cease, adamant at striking him down before he could even get closer.

“Your life ends here!”

A sudden shout from an Imperial Soldier sounded, prompting him to turn around, his lance ready to tear at whoever dared to take the life of any of his men.

A flash of teal and red greeted him.

Eyes widening, his grip on his lance tightened.

His friend was busy retaliating against a lance-wielding soldier, unaware of an assassin swiftly closing in, sword raised in anticipation.

And without a moment’s thought, he shifted his stance as he cut his way towards his friend, determined to intercept the assassin before she could strike.

Suddenly, the battlefield began to blur, faces started to blend in with each other as he struggled to keep his eye on his sworn friend. For a few moments, he could neither feel the wetness of his clothes nor the dampness of his skin. He instead felt the heat of a sunny day against his skin and the tickle of a soft breeze against his hair.

It was utterly disconcerting.

What he saw was mismatched with how felt, his mind struggling to reconcile the different sensations. Suddenly, a searing ache pierced through his head, blurring his vision even further. He felt faint, as if he was on the verge of expelling the contents of his stomach and dropping helpless on the ground. But he must persevere; his friend was outnumbered and was mere moments away from being slain by a sly soldier intent on bringing their rebellion to an abrupt end.

As he drew closer and closer to the scene, he watched as his friend parry back a blow from his opponent’s lance, shield glowing brightly as raindrops splashed against it. He was only a few meters away now but the assassin was quick on her feet, placing herself behind his friend as she raised her sword to end him.

The scene was too familiar. Painful memories immediately started to flood his mind.

_“Felix!”_

His friend couldn’t dodge on time.

After his name burst out of his mouth, he watched the assassin’s sword pierce his friend’s shoulder, a splash red staining his clothes and armor.

The more he looked on, the more unwanted images invaded his mind, and the more voices seemed to shout at him in anger. Suddenly, he could no longer move, as if imprisoned by the voices and visions that only made him feel helpless, angry, and ashamed. He wanted them to stop but he knew nothing of how to placate them. He could only scream and shout as he tried to convince them that he cannot leave his friend alone, that he was not abandoning their wishes at all. Yet they talk over him, deaf to his pleas.

He watched as his friend grimace in pain, as he gritted his teeth and slashed his sword at his opponent, snapping the soldier’s lance in two and stabbing him right through his stomach. The assassin behind him ducked away from the sword’s trajectory, stepping back before raising her sword once again.

Fighting against the searing pain in his head and the voices that sought to hold him back, he threw his lance right the assassin’s chest, taking her out before she can deal more damage to his friend.

He ran quickly towards his friend, throwing punches at those who tried to deter him, watching as his friend clutched his shoulder in pain as he fished through his bag for a spare concoction.

While retrieving his lance from his friend’s assailant, he crouched down in front of him, studying the wound on his shoulder.

“I’m fine. It’s not as bad as it looks.” His friend’s voice was tight as if restraining himself from crying out in pain.

“Still, it was a close call.” He spoke softly as he pulled out a concoction from his cloak, offering it to his friend before quickly ripping a part of his cloak and wrapping it around his friend’s shoulder, mindful of his surroundings. Thankfully, his battalion had caught up to him and proceeded to surround them like a shield.

“Shouldn’t you be fighting General Vestra?” His friend winced slightly as he tightened the makeshift bandage.

“I’d rather win this battle with you by my side, and _alive_.” He offered his hand to his friend, helping him steady himself as he stood up.

“And I’d rather have you not distracted by one of your most capable men.” His friend cocked his brow at him. “This battle isn’t over.”

“And we will end it together.” Smiling, he gave his friend a pat on the shoulder.

“Tch, sentimental.” He watched as the end of his friend’s lip quirked up.

Focusing on the task at hand, they shifted their gaze to the enemy general who was steadily casting spells against their troops. As if sensing their gaze on him, General Vestra caught sight of them approaching, swiftly casting a spell right at them, a futile attempt at their life.

Just as he sidestepped out of the way, the ache in his head intensified, causing him to slightly stumble on his feet. He cradled his head against his hand, closing his eyes as he willed himself to get over the pain.

 _“Dimitri!”_ His friend called out, parrying a blow aimed at his side.

His friend’s voice sounded distant but familiar.

“Get it together, Loog!” He felt a strong grip on his arm, grounding him into reality. He slowly opened his eyes and was greeted by amber eyes, framed by long wavy hair.

This was his _friend_.

That face cannot be anyone else’s.

He knew his friend’s features like the back of his hand.

And yet, he felt conflicted emotions stir within.

Suddenly, his friend’s eyes widened, and before he could react, his friend raised his sword, effectively killing a soldier brave enough to sneak up on the king.

His friend’s face started to blur, the only thing remaining clear were his eyes.

He could feel the puffs of air that escaped from his friend’s lips. He watched as amber eyes studied his face, relief washing over his friend’s gaze.

Without thought, his body moved on its own, his arms wrapped tightly around his friend as the ache in his head became unbearable.

“W-what—“ His hand cupped over his friend’s cheek as he pressed his lips firmly against his friend’s, warmth exploding in his chest.

“Kyphon…”

_“Dimitri!”_

_7 th day of the Red Wolf Moon, 1186, Fhirdiad_

The sunlight filtered through the windows, awakening Fódlan’s sleeping king.

A cool breeze entered the royal chambers, enveloping the room in a slight chill. The glass windows have frosted overnight as Fhirdiad welcomed the beginning of winter with an embrace, allowing the cold to seep into even the tiniest of spaces. Outside, the trees have become bare and animals have begun to hide in their burrows, safe from the frigid cold and signaling that the cold season has finally settled in. Now, mornings retained the cold of the night, beckoning everyone to wake due to its frigid haze.

Dimitri woke slowly, still hazy from his slumber as he sat up on his bed. His cheek was stinging from the cold, and the faint scent of chamomile tea invaded his senses.

Oddly, his tea set was no longer on his bedside.

With a soft grunt, he stood from his bed, bare feet touching the cold stone floor, proceeding to ready to himself for today’s kingly duties.

Dimitri was looking forward to this day in particular. Today he would be fortunate enough to have time to visit the town square to observe the current state of the capital’s repairs. However, he must first go through a possibly lengthy meeting with Alliance lords who had urgent grievances. Although such things tend to be tedious until they’ve reached the cusp of a settlement, such meetings were already a routine Dimitri was very much used to.

Despite his daunting role as the king of a united Fódlan, Dimitri had found himself easily swept by the slew of duties handed to him each day.

He was thankful.

And yet, the endless stream of tasks never seemed enough to temper the voices haunting his every move.

In each decision he would make, even in simply signing correspondences, he would hear her voice, questioning his methods and ideals. Her voice was not snide, nor was it taunting.

It was merely blasé.

She would utter questions that echoed within his mind for hours even if he was engrossed in numerous tasks requiring his utmost attention.

 _‘Was this the future you wished to create?’_ She would speak lowly.

At every step of the way, she seemed determined to make him second guess every little thing he did. He didn’t know whether or not to be thankful for her input or be distressed at how far he must go in order to reach that future for his kingdom.

Still, it was a daunting task he was willing to achieve.

Although reforming Fódlan for its people was what he strived for each waking day, his heart continued to grow weary. Years of entertaining his ghosts, fighting a war, and wandering in solitude were taking its toll. Often times, he would wonder whether he should even be here, alive, and in power. He would stare absently over the town square from the castle’s balcony, wondering whether this was all a dream he was rewarded with or a nightmare he had to contend with.

He wanted to be a good king for his people. But being a good king was something he cannot decide for himself, rather it is those who look to him for protection, and those who wait with bated breath until he slips who can judge him for all that he was.

He was no king, nor was he any semblance of a hero.

To many, he was nothing but a slaughterer parading around with a title soaked in blood.

And yet here he was, the walking testament of the truth of which they speak, a powerful yet foolish wretch.

As his thoughts ran through his mind, more and more voices started sounding the truth. His head was starting to ache as it futilely processed all the words that battered his psyche.

He looked upon his reflection in the mirror, tracing with his gaze the scars that proved them right. The worst evidence was etched right over his face, his right eye closed tight by scar too violent to see. He touched it carefully with his hand as if afraid that he would break from his own touch. His skin was rough and discolored, echoing the injury he nursed when he got it. The scar itself brought back memories he’d rather dismiss, atrocities he cannot ever forgive himself for. Nonetheless, he knew it to be a reminder of what he had done to deserve such mark.

The ache in his head continued to pulse, prompting him to grab the edge of the water basin, splintering the wood beneath his grip. He closed his eyes as he waited for the pain to ebb, his breaths coming out in heavy pants as he willed the pain to diminish.

He started to count down, a calming method Mercedes had taught him during the war.

Ten.

_‘How long will you remain a fool?’_

Nine _._

_‘This was not what we wanted.’_

Eight.

_‘Accept what you have done.’_

Seven.

_‘They are right.’_

Six.

_‘Why?’_

The voices were blending together in chaotic echoes, Dimitri could no longer tell who was who, the words sounding like garbled shouts. As the pain continued to sear in his head, the water basin cracked under his grip, water flowing to the floor. Dimitri continued to count over and over again, matching his breathing with the count as sweat gathered on his brow.

His sins pulsed his mind, his violence magnified every ache on his body, and his guilt stabbed at his chest, trading his every breath with pain.

This was his atonement.

After a few heavy moments, the ache slowly became more manageable. It was still there but subtle in its presence.

With a heavy sigh, Dimitri rested his head over the broken water basin, tired and defeated.

Even though the special brew of chamomile tea Mercedes and Dedue sent him have been helping him sleep better at night, it wasn’t enough to lessen the paid of the worst of his headaches. These headaches tend to leave Dimitri exhausted after. And they were particularly an inconvenience when they decide to greet him in the morning.

Deciding that it was high time that he should get ready for the day, Dimitri lifted his head up, staring at his weary reflection as he reached out to his eyepatch hanging on a nook.

He was a king.

He had no time for idleness and introspection.

Much less, use his time to entertain those voices to their hearts’ content.

* * *

Ever since Dedue had returned to Duscur, Dimitri has been consistently receiving his letters every week, each one succinct in detailing the ongoing reconstructions as well as talks with each town’s leader. Even with official business being seventy percent of the letter’s content, Dedue never failed to ask him how he was doing, and reminded him of various mundane tasks which Dimitri sometimes forgot. Though Dimitri appreciated his friend’s concern, what he enjoyed most from reading Dedue’s letters was his stories of the people there as well as the sceneries he would describe in passionate detail. For a man of few words, Dedue poured his heart in his letters when it came to his homeland.

Dimitri was glad to see him living his life for himself.

Dimitri looked forward to the day where Dedue decides to free himself from Dimitri’s shadow, and live his life to the fullest.

While waiting for the meeting to start, Dimitri idly flipped through Dedue’s latest letter in his study. In it, Dedue described Duscur’s Winter Festival along with the various delicacies he helped cook. Dimitri could feel himself smile softly at his friend’s words, imagining the scenes in his head. However, as quickly as joy entered his chest, a pang of guilt immediately followed in as he finished reading the letter.

Much has been sacrificed for his rule, and his life for that matter.

Two months after the war, the people have yet to feel progress. Though the end of the war lifted a large burden off the populace, true peace was still years away from coming to fruit. Dimitri was very much aware of how many enemies he has made just from emerging from the war alive, numerous nobles scrambling at the chance to push him off his seat.

He has yet to truly earn his place as king.

But wavering now would only bring Fódlan back to the chaos it just recently escaped.

He needed to do right by his people.

This he constantly reminded himself of.

A few knocks on the door caught Dimitri’s attention, prompting him to call the person in.

Entering the room with his signature frown was Felix who walked straight up to Dimitri’s desk with a hand on his hip.

“Good morning, Felix.” Dimitri smiled, correcting his posture as he hid the slope of his shoulders betraying his weariness.

“Care to explain what took you so long?” Felix crossed his arms and raised his brow, sharp eyes scrutinizing him. Felix cut straight to the point. There was no such thing as beating around the bush around him.

“It…wasn’t a good morning that’s all.” Felix still eyed him suspiciously, as if waiting for Dimitri to continue. However, openly talking about such things was a challenge. It was a huge step, crossing over the line of his comfort by miles.

“Not a good morning. Right.” Felix echoed, not quite believing Dimitri’s words. “Did you at least sleep well?”

“Yes.” It was a lie. Dimitri can tell that Felix recognized it straight away.

“You sure about that?”

Frankly, Dimitri does not remember. All he could recall were flashes of a nightmare he’d rather forget, and all he could feel was the ache of his battered body. Before Dimitri could even answer, he saw Felix’s eyes widening as if in realization. He watched as Felix shook his head, a frown painting itself on his face. Felix must have been frustrated waiting for him, wondering why he bothered with such small talk when they have a meeting to prepare for.

“Just forget it. Forget I asked.” Felix raised his hand against his head. A tinge of red stained the bandages wrapped around his palm, catching Dimitri’s attention quickly.

“Felix, where did you get that?” Felix visibly stiffened at his question. It was not like Felix to be caught off guard by anything. Much less, not be careful enough to get an injury to his sword wielding hand.

Hesitantly, Dimitri slowly reached out and took hold of Felix’s hand by his wrist, studying the injury, and taking note of the blood staining across Felix’s palm.

“How deep is it?” Worry laced Dimitri’s words, a somber look etched itself on his face.

“It’s nothing you should get worked up over.” Felix quickly took back his hand, his face flushed with red.

Although Dimitri has known Felix for most of his life, the Felix he was with now remains to be a conundrum. It was simpler being around Felix when they were younger. He was easier to please and even easier to spoil. As the years went by, Felix grew more and more aloof, determined to keep things to himself instead of allowing them to show up on his face. He would use scathing words to hide the truth even if such things were plain in his actions. And he would only ever interact with him when he had no other choice. Now, although he was more amenable, Felix retained whatever habits that had grown with him, remaining cutting and direct yet a bit soft around the edges.

Still, Dimitri found it hard to interact with him.

Things between them were so _delicate_ , and Dimitri was clumsy enough to ruin things at the most inopportune moment.

Each time he got close Felix would pull back as if he was burned, immediately distancing himself on instinct.

It was understandable.

Given everything that had happened, between them was a rift far too wide to bridge with a single word, meeting or action.

Yet Dimitri was determined to fix whatever they have left with each other.

He sorely, sorely wanted to.

But whether their relationship can be repaired was for Felix to decide. After all, Dimitri becoming the boar he loathed the most was the wedge which forced them apart, leaving them to scramble over the broken pieces of their friendship.

Sad as things may be, Dimitri continued to do what he can to bridge the gap between them once again, longing to be something that Felix cherished instead of hate.

“I see.” Dimitri had left his hand hanging in the air, unsure of reaching out once again. He let his hand fall back against his side, as he diverted his gaze away from Felix.

An awkward pause.

Felix heaved a heavy sigh, before taking his usual place at Dimitri’s desk.

“I tripped, and my hand landed on a sharp rock. I’m fine, Dimitri. ” Felix spoke with nonchalance, actions stiff and haphazard as he sat in his chair. His hands quickly reached for some of Dimitri’s documents, amber eyes scanning meticulously.

“Did you have it checked?” Dimitri said, his concern unwavering. It looked like a messy gash, as if numerous edges scarred Felix’s palm.

“It’s just a nasty scrape. The castle cleric has more important things to do than hover over an elementary injury.” Felix muttered, pointedly focusing on reading through one of the many documents on Dimitri’s desk.

“Ah, yes. That’s correct.” Dimitri said dumbly, awkwardness spilling in his words. “Let’s get back to preparing for the meeting then.”

“Mm.” Needless to say, Dimitri was dumbfounded. As soon as he spoke, he risked their morning routine becoming awkward and uncomfortable for the both of them. While it was easy for the two to focus on their work, no one can deny that there was some restless energy lingering between them whenever they were left alone.

Dimitri once again took his place behind the desk, keen on making the most of their time before the meeting.

Today, they were to meet some Alliance nobles in order to iron out some trade agreements as well as territory disputes. It would take them until early afternoon to settle things so there was a lot they would have to discuss beforehand.

From his spot, Dimitri could admire the way Felix worked. The way his brows scrunched together in concentration, the way he would bite his lip when he was reading a frustrating report, and the way his amber eyes shone in determination as he focused.

Felix was truly admirable.

Though Felix would beg to differ, Dimitri was confident that Felix was handling the transition of their kingdom quite nicely. Without his aid, Dimitri was unsure of how smoothly he would’ve handled the slew of his duties day by day. Although Dedue’s presence and help was very much appreciated, Dimitri was adamant that Dedue live his life without placing himself as Dimitri’s ever stalwart vassal. Dedue had a better life ahead of him outside of standing by Dimitri’s side every day. Not to mention, Dimitri also wanted to prove himself to the people, to earn their trust through his _own_ hard work. Dimitri believed that personally seeing to their grievances was the best way to serve the people, the best method to bring Fódlan to a better future.

Dimitri could feel that same drive in Felix.

A small smile graced Dimitri’s lips as he admired his friend.

It was the little things that Felix did which made him endearing. Even through the lows of their relationship, Dimitri always considered Felix as someone to be cherished. He considered himself lucky to have him by his side.

To be frank, Dimitri found the thought of Felix leaving him frightening.

Yet, Dimitri doesn’t have it in him to stop him from doing so when the time comes.

All he could do was brace himself for the inevitable.

* * *

Dimitri does not know what he did to anger Felix nor does he know why Felix seemed to glower heatedly at several commissioned portraits of his ancestors whenever he passed them by.

The meeting went by splendidly with Felix successfully convincing the lords to see reason and agree to the terms Dimitri has set. While Dimitri did most of the talking and negotiating, Felix listened carefully to the lords’ concerns, and was not afraid to fire back whenever he deemed such to be too excessive, his words allowing some of the lords to have a moment of clarity.

It was quite impressive.

Once all the lords have left the room, Dimitri spoke of how happy Felix made him. However, Felix bit back, face flushed and gaze averted.

Was Dimitri missing something here? Or was he clumsy enough to set off Felix with just a few words?

Currently, they were preparing for their trip outside the castle walls. Felix leant against the wall, watching soldiers spar in the outdoor training yard. Dimitri was busy talking with the captain of their entourage for today, telling her that a few guards would be enough, that there was no need for her to bring her whole battalion to escort the king around the town proper. After all, Dimitri would rather not make his presence imposing on the townsfolk.

“Yes, 4 of you will be more than enough. Duke Fraldarius and I are also very capable of protecting ourselves if the need arises. You don’t have to go through too much trouble for us.” Dimitri said, receiving a bow from the captain of the guard.

“Very well, Your Majesty. We’re prepared to leave as you wish.” She gestured her guard to fall in line. They were all garbed in simple attire, weapons strapped around their waist and cloaks around their shoulders to shield them from Faerghus’s cold.

Dimitri decided it was best not to draw too much attention on them. He was venturing to the town to survey the repairs, not to create a fuss.

“You done?” Felix asked, a hand resting on his hip. “We don’t have all day, you know.”

“Let us be off then.” Dimitri nodded at the guards, signaling them their leave.

Fhirdiad was eerily beautiful in the winter, bathed in pure white and utterly breathtaking. Even with the frigid cold, the townsfolk still went about their business as usual, tending to their homes, stores, and families.

As soon as Dimitri and Felix emerged from the castle gates, several eyes looked over, widening in surprise at the appearance of their king. It has been a while since they last saw him, the coronation being two moons ago. Some children immediately recognized him, toppling over their feet as they ran over to catch a glimpse of him.

It was like a domino effect.

Soon, people have gathered around their entourage, whispering amongst each other as they cleared the way for Dimitri.

It was uncomfortable to say the least.

Dimitri tried to ignore the way their eyes seemed to bore into the back of his head as he continued his way. He tried to close his ears to the townsfolk’s comments as he reminded himself of the reason for his visit.

There was no escaping the attention it seems.

Focusing his attention on the very reason he ventured into town in the first place, Dimitri observed his surroundings, taking note of the decayed remains of several houses and buildings littering the capital. It was dismaying to see concrete progress move so slowly with the repairs. He could see the several families who have taken to living on the streets as they waited for permanent shelter to be given to them.

Although he had provided for temporary housing for the masses, there was still quite a number that haven’t benefitted. Dimitri made a mental note to have the castle staff prepare more rooms to accommodate them as well as have more staff to provide for food rations throughout the whole winter.

Including the living situation in the remains of the Empire and Alliance, there was a lot to be done in Faerghus, and frankly Dimitri still had a lot of holes to fill as this winter ravaged the whole kingdom.

As he continued to survey his surroundings, he felt something small bump against his leg, causing him to stop right at his tracks.

He looked down, and was greeted by the sight of two children, siblings perhaps, one tugging at the older’s sleeve. Their mouths were dropped down in surprise, their eyes twinkled as they looked up at him.

Dimitri offered an awkward smile in return.

“I-it’s the King of Lions!” The older one exclaimed, jumping in his place with cheer.

“King Loog?” The younger one asked, curious eyes studying Dimitri.

“Of course! Can’t you see? He can’t be anyone but Loog!” The child explained, a wide grin plastered on his face as he tugged the younger closer to Dimitri.

“Ah, I’m sorry but you’re mistaken.” Dimitri bent down, trying to look as friendly as possible. “My name is Dimitri.”

“Eh? But, you look like Loog.”

“Yes, yes! Exactly like him!”

“You have the cape and everything!”

“We’re extra, extra sure you’re Loog.”

“Yeah! You don’t have to hide it from us.”

“Why are you hiding Mr. Loog? Is someone after you?”

DImitri didn’t have the heart to explain that Loog no longer existed.

That the man before them was not the one whom they adored with all their heart.

He was not Loog. He was not the caricature of the highest form of chivalry. Dimitri was a cross between beast and man, flaws teeming at every crack he had in his being. Loog was long dead, only immortalized in numerous volumes of books scattered throughout Fódlan. Dimitri was alive, bound to break at any second, the voices in his head dictating his very fate.

Unfortunately, Loog was the very thing that Dimitri must live up to.

Such was reality.

“I am, actually.” A white lie. “Can you keep a secret for me?”

The two children nodded their heads vigorously. Dimitri could feel himself smile from their enthusiasm.

“The others don’t know who I am. I want to surprise them, and both of you seem very worthy of my trust.” The children hung onto Dimitri’s every word, faces gleaming with determination. “Can you keep my identity a secret?”

“Of course! You can count on us!” The younger one exclaimed, placing her hand over her heart. “I promise.”

“I promise too!”

“Thank you. You’ve both done me a big favor.” Dimitri allowed himself to affectionately pat the top of their heads.

Even just from meeting them for the first time, Dimitri could tell these children have lost a lot. They must have wandered the streets without someone to care for them. Later, he would see to it that the town orphanage would offer these children a home.

Standing up, Dimitri prepared to bid them goodbye but before he could do so he noticed Felix brooding silently at his side, glaring at him through his fringe. The children immediately shifted their attention to the brooding man, walking over to him cautiously.

“If you’re with Loog…” The elder child started, curious eyes scrutinizing Felix.  
  
“You must be Kyphon!” The younger ran towards Felix, small hands taking hold of his cloak.

Dimitri watched as Felix stiffened, a deep flush painting his face.

“ _What?_ ” The way Felix’s eyes widened were almost comical.

“Oh? Y-you’re not Kyphon?” The young girl asked, disappointment evident on her face.

“Yes, I’m Kyphon—“ Realizing what he just said, Felix quickly dialed back. “I mean no. I’m Kyphon. Wait—Ugh, you know what I meant!”

It was rare to see Felix flustered, stumbling over his words as he spoke to a child.

“I’m sorry, Mr. Kyphon. I don’t know what you mean.” The young girl looked distressed, hand gripping Felix’s cloak even tighter.

Felix muttered something under his breath as he took a heavy sigh.

“It’s fine.” Felix said, his voice taking on a softer edge.

Nowadays, it was odd how Felix seemed to fluster whenever their ancestors were brought up in conversation.

Does Felix worry for their destiny too?

Was he concerned that he may never live up to their legends as well?

Dimitri knew better.

Felix said so himself that he was not concerned with such things. And that Felix resolutely did whatever he can to distance himself from Kyphon’s image. Felix would just scoff at any comparison made between him and his ancestor, reiterating that he was Felix Hugo Fraldarius, no one else. Not the King’s Right Hand reincarnated, and not the legend reborn.

He was just Felix.

However, before their falling out, Felix had a different view. He cherished the fact that he and Dimitri were tied by fate, meeting once again hundreds of years after their life as the King of Lions and the King’s Right Hand. He would tell Dimitri how they would become even better versions of their past selves, that in the future people will remember them as Felix and Dimitri, not as age old names written in every story book.

Dimitri could remember sharing their dreams with each other. Whenever they were apart, they would write to each other about their dreams, the ones in which the two of them were the ones who freed the kingdom from the empire, the ones where they were the legends themselves. It was the most unique experience they shared with each other, bringing them closer than ever before.

However, all that remained in the past.

Ever since the tragedy, Dimitri’s mind has taken it upon itself to shield Dimitri from his dreams. His dreams were now a terrifying cocktail of a war he had once lived through, the flames of tragedy and loss, and the ghosts who continued to haunt him during his exile and until now.

Dimitri could only remember flashes.

Most of which were the most painful he had ever dreamt.

Around that time, Felix had stopped replying to his letters.

Even back at the academy, they no longer spoke of it.

Now, Dimitri wondered if Felix was still dreaming about Kyphon. He wondered whether he despised the experience or has learned to live with it.

He wondered if the dreams have stopped ever since their friendship was severed.

Now, Dimitri watched Felix as he interacted with the children, thoughts adrift as he pondered over a friendship long lost.

* * *

“Dimitri.”

Felix stood outside of his quarters, waiting for Dimitri to let him in. It was late into the night. The staff had already retired to their rooms, and the castle guards have started their night patrols.

To say this nightly visit was unexpected was an understatement.

“Felix. Was there something you needed?” Dimitri asked, hand fidgeting over the doorknob. Dimitri was reading over some new documents delivered to his quarters, hoping to go over them in time for tomorrow’s next meeting.

He knew he should be in bed now.

However, his mind was restless.

He has yet to drink his evening tea. The new tea set sent into his room remained untouched. It was evident that this was going to be a difficult night.

He’d rather spend his night reading over trade agreements than lie hopelessly awake in bed.

“We need to talk.” Felix crossed his arms, waiting for Dimitri to step aside, and allow him inside. His eyes seemed to glow dangerously against the candlelight.

Whatever Felix wanted to talk about seemed to be too important to leave until tomorrow.

“I see. Very well, come in.” Dimitri opened the door wide, letting Felix brush past him quickly as the cold night air wafted into his quarters.

There was silence between the two as Dimitri waited for Felix to say his piece.

“Dimitri.”

“What is it, Felix?”

“You shouldn’t have lied to me.” Felix glared at him, eyes flickering like flames.

“I don’t follow, Felix. What do you mean?” Dimitri didn’t know what exactly Felix wanted from this conversation.

“You didn’t just have a bad morning, you had a horrible night as well.” Felix started, brows knotting together as he glared at him.

“I…I don’t remember.”

“You—” Felix bit his tongue, holding himself back from lashing out.

“I what Felix?” Dimitri was cautious. Whatever this was, it was bound to be heavy.

“Stop hiding it from me, Dimitri.” Felix snapped, though there was no venom in his words, only frustration and concern. “Don’t you dare try and fool me when I know you haven’t been well. I can see it clear as day. You’re tired. And you don’t have the human decency to take a rest. You’re letting yourself work in the hope of working yourself to sleep.”

“Felix, we’ve been through this—“ Dimitri now had an idea where this was going. This was a topic they have glossed over multiple times since Felix’s stay in Fhirdiad.

Still, Dimitri wondered why Felix still came to his aid, and why he continued to subject himself to Dimitri’s frustrating presence.

“Let me finish.” Felix held up a hand, stopping Dimitri from continuing with his reason.

“You’re supposed to be resting instead of doing things to aggravate your condition. You’re making your damned dreams worse.”

Dimitri could hear the frustration in Felix’s voice, his weariness over Dimitri’s condition showing itself on his face.

“I heard you screaming last night.”

Dimitri’s eyes widened, shock etching over his features. His night terrors were not something he expected to alarm even Felix. He knew he was prone to talking to the voices in his sleep. Dedue had brought it to his attention before he left for Duscur. But to the point of screaming in his sleep? It was not something he expected.

“I came to check on you.” Felix’s voice softened as he recounted last night’s events.

“You…were having a hard time, and you can’t expect me to just leave you alone like that. So I stayed with you until it was over.”

He truly does not deserve Felix.

“When it finally ended, you called me Kyphon.”

Dimitri did not know what to do with that information. As his brain processed the notion, his eyes wandered off to Felix’s hand, still wrapped in bandages as it rested against his side.

Dread instantly twisted his insides as his mind realized.

“Did I—Did I hurt you, Felix? Was I the one who injured you?” Dimitri reached out towards Felix’s hand, taking it in his.

“It doesn’t matter, Dimitri.” Felix quickly took his hand back.

“Felix.”

“It doesn’t matter.” Felix reiterated. “It’s already healing anyway.”

“But—“

“ _It’s already healing_. So stop worrying about it. I don’t care that you injured me in your sleep. I’ve dealt with worse things than my hand falling on some cracked tea set.”

“…”

“But that’s not why I came here for.” Felix continued, crossing his arms across his chest. “Now, tell me. What exactly were you dreaming of last night to call me by that name?”

_‘Kyphon.’_

Frankly, Dimitri does not remember much. He has been dreaming of Loog ever since he was a child. Nowadays, he could only remember what caused him to feel the most in his dreams. He would wake up with a fog in his head as his mind pieced itself together each time.

“Vivid as they are, I remember only flashes, Felix.” Dimitri said sadly. There was not much he could say on the matter, and not much he could help Felix with.

“…I see. How often have you been dreaming about him?”

“I honestly can’t say.”

“Hm.”

Silence enveloped them once again. It was an awkward topic to say the least, and things between them have only started to get back into shape. They were both too cautious, and reckless at the same time.

It was a very awkward period in their relationship.

“Is there any particular reason that brought this on, Felix?” Dimitri was curious. Felix had never openly talked about Loog and Kyphon with him for years. He had expected that Felix would be adamant at not talking about them given his feelings on Faerghus’s chivalry.

“It’s nothing.”

“I see.”

Dimitri did not know how to break down the wall that has been built between them. Years of resentment and avoidance took its toll on their relationship, pushing them further apart.

Still, he would rather have the wall broken down instead of left standing.

“Felix, I still would like to apologize for causing your injury. Had I known that I was the cause of it…No…I promise I would do better on taking care of myself so as too not cause you any more trouble.”

“Tch, you better. From now on, don’t lie to me, and learn to rely on others for a change. You can’t keep hoarding all the work to yourself.”

“All right. I will tell you the truth from now on but on the condition that you allow me to help you when you need it.”

“It’s a deal.” Dimitri could have sworn he saw the corners of his Felix’s lips turn up.

Deciding that it was an appropriate time to leave, Felix turned away from Dimitri and headed towards the door.

“Wait! One more thing, Felix.” Dimitri called out.

“What is it? Make it quick. We both should be in bed.”

“I just want to say thank you for all that you’ve done.” Dimitr spoke with utmost sincerity. “You may not be Kyphon but I consider you to be a treasured friend. I hope that you forgive me for my shortcomings. I still have much to learn.”

“You’re already forgiven.”

“Thank you, Felix.”

“…And you’re right, I’m not Kyphon.” Dimitri could now clearly see the small smile that graced Felix’s features.

“And I’m not Loog…” Dimitri replied confusedly.

Felix quietly shut the door as he ventured back to his room, leaving Dimitri standing dumbfounded at their last exchange.

Does this mean Felix had made his decision?

Dimitri continued to turn over Felix’s words in his mind, his heart feeling torn over something he has yet to understand.

Later, Dimitri laid in his bed, wondering why fate seemed to toy with him as he pondered over his future, and his relationship with his friend.

Sleep evaded him once again, his thoughts haunting him as he laid awake.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> kudos and comments are very much appreciated!

**Author's Note:**

> So I haven't written in a year and I missed writing for video games so much. FE3H was the perfect blackhole to fall into. So this happened and oh god I didn't expect it to be this long (and it's getting longer wow).
> 
> Btw, Lord Astley is my friend Roa's idea. It must be done.
> 
> I lurk on twitter [ @catefish_ ](https://twitter.com/catefish_). Feel free to interact with me while I scream.


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